Riddles and Fear
by scarlett onyx
Summary: NOLANVERSE  Jonathan Crane is currently in Arkham, with little more to do than while the time away, struggling in a straight jacket. But when a strange visitor shows up one night and asks for a partnership, he just may be homefree. characters  c  DC
1. The Visitor

Jonathan Crane sat in the only piece of furniture in his cell-an off-white chair bolted to the floor-and tried to concentrate all of his energies on wriggling out of the straight-jacket that bound him.

He knew in the back of his mind that it would be nearly impossible to get out of this one as the straps had been tightened to almost full capacity, but he needed something to both stave off boredom and keep his arms from completely falling asleep.

Down the hall in another cell, an inmate screamed.

Jonathan smiled.

_Fear._

_It had given him power, made them all fall to their knees before him._

_And it had landed him here._

_But fear would get him out again._

_He just had to wait for the right opportunity…_

"You must be incredibly bored."

The Scarecrow's head snapped up and he looked about for the owner of the voice. He couldn't find it, but snapped back instinctively.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, knowing that you've been in here for over a month and the only form of mental stimulation in that box they call a cell is trying feebly to get out of your straight-jacket, I would say you're dying of boredom by now.

Of course, that's just conjecture.

For all I know, and I know a lot, you could be positively riveted by that straight-jacket and its constricting straps, but somehow, I seriously doubt it."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow.

"What do you want?"

The voice paused for a moment, but when it spoke again, the Scarecrow could practically _hear_ the smirk in it.

"What do I want? Hmmm…oh, several things. Knowledge, being one. But then everyone wants that, don't they? Unless they're a complete idiot. Alas, we seldom desire what we really need…"

The voice trailed off at this point and for a moment the Asylum was silent. Then the inmate down the hall screamed again and Jonathan stopped trying to deduce who the mysterious speaker was for a moment to savor the sound.

Coincidentally, his visitor chose that moment to continue.

"I want you." the speaker said abruptly.

The Scarecrow's other eyebrow rose to join its twin.

"You want me?"

The voice chuckled suddenly, an amused sound. "Oh, yes. I _need_ you. But don't get too excited. I simply require your assistance for a…_project_ I'm working on."

Jonathan ground his teeth together. He'd had enough of 'helping' since Ras Al Gul.

"I am nobody's pawn."

The voice chuckled again, but this time it sounded surprised.

"'Pawn'? Oh, dear me, no. I need a _helper_, not a henchmen."

"And the difference _is_…?"

"Henchmen are stupid."

The Scarecrow couldn't deny that. The short time that he'd had access to the brutish thugs, he'd been astounded by their idiocy. _'Can _the Batman_ really fly' _, indeed.

"That's true." he conceded.

"Of _course_ it's true!" the speaker exclaimed in a sudden burst of energy. "Henchmen are no more than mere blocks of muscle and tissue with a brain the size of a walnut rattling around in the thick masses that they call their skulls…if they have the vocabulary to do so. But _you_…"-the voice softened-"You _fascinate_ me." using fear as one would use a weapon…well, _that_, my friend, is genius. And I know intelligence when I see it. After all, I _do_ look in the mirror every morning."

Jonathan snorted softly. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?"

The audible smirk was back.

"I consider myself a genius of the highest caliber."

"Narcissism is a dangerous thing."

"You say narcissism, I say honesty." his visitor responded calmly.

"Who are you?" the Scarecrow asked.

"Oh, I can't tell you _that_…" the voice said as if Jonathan had just asked him if Are 51 existed.

"That's part of the fun! But I do need to know…will you join me?"

"I'll do nothing until I know who you are."

A different sound echoed through the corridor. A slow, congratulatory clap.

"Of _course_ you won't." the voice purred warmly, then went back to a calculating tone.

"That was a test. Fortunately, you passed. But the question remains. Who am I?

Riddle me this:

Easy first it seems to be

But I am more than what _you_ see.

What lies entwined in words and lines

Is something else entirely.

I will be back, Dr. Crane. And I'll expect an answer to my query."

"And if I don't give you one?" Jonathan challenged.

The voice was silent before replying flatly, "Then you will rot here, slowly wasting away until you're nothing but a shadow. A ghost of your former self. No longer a 'Master of Fear', but a wraith, haunting the already doomed in a cursed asylum. And in your final, fading moments, you will think of me and wish you had taken my offer.

_Or_…you could say yes. And together we could watch this city burn in a grand mixture of terror and chaos as they pay for their stupidity and know that _I_…"

Here the visitor stopped, as if realizing what he was saying.

"Well, let's just say you have a lot of potential. Why waste it by grasping at the feeble screams of the delusional?"

The Scarecrow said nothing, mentally digesting the voice's words.

There was silence for sometime and then the sound of soft footsteps.

Jonathan strained to see through the shadows, but all he saw was what he thought was a flash of green, caught by the faint glow emanating from the tiny cell window, as the footsteps receded into the blackness.


	2. Riddles and Revelations

_They cowered before him, screaming and wailing, people of every age._

_Terrified._

_It was beautiful._

_They writhed in terror just as he shivered with pleasure._

_Fear._

_They were nothing more than slaves to it, and he was their master._

_But even in his revelry, he could sense something._

_Something or someone, just outside of his consciousness._

_Lurking._

_And suddenly he was angry._

_Angry at this new intruder for interrupting his moment of glory, and angry at himself for not noticing them sooner. Turning from the cowering populace, he momentarily blocked out the delicious screams to search for the spy._

_But he saw nothing._

"_Show yourself!" he growled._

_Something green flashed at the edge of his vision and a voice floated towards him like a breath of wind._

"_Riddle me this…"_

Jonathan Crane's eyes snapped open.

"Bad dream?" an amused sounding voice inquired. The Scarecrow glared into the shadows, then sat up on the newly installed cell-cot and grimaced at the sharp pain in his spine. The doctors had finally taken the straight jacket off, but Jonathan was still sore. And the cot, with its paper-thin mattress, didn't help matters.

"Who are you?" he hissed in the direction of the voice.

"Tsk, tsk…" came the reply. "Always the same question. Of course, you do realize I can't answer it. Not yet, anyway. You know, they say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. But then, you _are_ on the wrong side of the plexiglass in an asylum, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

Jonathan smirked. "I could say the same to you. Every day you come," his voice changed to a mocking tone, "'Have you found an answer to my riddle?'"

There was a metallic clang and a screech as something hit the asylum floor, skidding slightly. Whatever it was hit hard enough to create a soft spark that briefly illuminated a bit of green in the darkness.

There was an agitated series of footsteps and then the voice spoke again, sounding considerably closer this time.

"I am _not_ insane." it hissed, the words dripping venom.

There was silence for a moment and then the footsteps retreated.

"I am merely curious." the voice continued calmly, as though nothing had happened.

"So tell me, _have_ you solved it?"

Another pause broke the mostly one-sided conversation as the Scarecrow debated whether or not to answer the question. As a matter of fact, he'd figure it out days ago, but had kept the answer to himself, not wishing to play his visitor's game. But Jonathan couldn't help but wonder, what would the visitor do if he never answered?

Give him the answer? Give up? Break him out anyway?

Or would he resort to more sinister measures?

And what would he do if Jonathan _did_ answer?

The Scarecrow had to admit, he was curious. Sighing softly, Jonathan made up his mind.

"I have."

"You have? You've solved my riddle?" the voice was so sudden and passionate that Jonathan raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes."

A single clap of delight sounded from the shadows. "Excellent! Let's hear your answer!"

The Scarecrow nodded. "It seems easy when you first look at it, but you have to read between the lines to get the real message, which is often very different than your original conclusion. The answer _is_ a riddle."

The meager streak of moonlight that filtered through the cell window separated the shadows for a moment and the Scarecrow caught a glimpse of a gloved hand before it moved to clap its twin.

"_Good job!_" the visitor congratulated, continuing to clap enthusiastically. The Scarecrow remained silent, indifferent to the praise; waiting until his visitor stopped clapping.

"I've solved your riddle." Jonathan said once the visitor had finished. "Now it's your turn. Tell me who you are."

"Very well." the visitor said, and the soft sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor as he stepped slowly into the narrow strip of moonlight.

First, a leg clad in an expensive-looking green pant-leg was illuminated, then the left side of a suit jacket of the same color. The Scarecrow noticed that the wrist of the jacket was adorned with a small gold cufflink in the shape of a question mark. The visitor stepped fully into the moonbeam, and Jonathan saw that the shirt beneath the jacket was a light purple, covered in the center by a perfectly straight tie, also purple but in a darker shade. The tie bore the same question mark as the cufflinks.

Reaching behind him, the man grasped something leaning against the wall and deftly twirled it around in a blur of gold, bringing it down in front of him with a sharp clang that Jonathan recognized from before. The Scarecrow examined the object with a cool interest. It was a gold cane with a beautifully molded question mark on the top. The moonlight glanced off of the highly polished cane, making it shine until it was almost blinding to look at. The Scarecrow strained to see the visitor's face, but the man wore a bowler hat in the same shade of green as the suit with a light purple band above the brim, pulled low enough so his features were still cast in shadow.

"Who am I?" he murmured. "You answered it yourself. I am the answer to the riddle."

"A riddle?" Jonathan replied.

The man held up a purple-gloved finger.

"Close. I am the Prince of Puzzles. The Ruler of Riddles. The King of Conundrums. I am…" he lifted the brim of his hat with a silken fingertip, revealing a dark purple domino mask and a pair of piercing green eyes.

"…the Riddler."


	3. Changes

Jonathan Crane was not new to Gotham. He had lived within its borders for several years, enough time to see and hear and taste and smell most things of the dark city.

But one lesson he had learned and witnessed time and time again was simple. Gotham City was _always_ changing.

Sometimes the change was subtle. Slow.

Other times it was vibrant, nearly wild in its rampancy.

And lately, the city had been morphing into a different place in what seemed like a single night.

_Knight_, actually.

Specifically, the so-called 'Dark Knight' who had appeared out of nowhere to combat the infamous Ra's Al Ghul and his minions, including Gotham's rising 'super villain'-himself-the Scarecrow.

And just like that, the celestial wheels were turning-spun out of control by the winds of fate.

Gotham didn't seem to know what to do with her new 'Savior' and almost seemed to be creating the so-called 'Rogues' to combat him.

First, himself, then 'Joker', then 'Two-Face'-the cities' own district attorney and rising star, who had been tragically burned, exposing a much darker side hidden just below the surface.

And now the city had made herself a new creature.

A sharply dressed narcissist with flaming green eyes and a convoluted way of talking.

"The Riddler?"

Jonathan thought he saw a condescending flicker in the other man's eyes as he repeated the name.

"I believe that's what I stated previously, yes."

The Scarecrow pretended to ignore the man's remark and stood, walking to the clear wall of plexi-glass curiously.

"What's your game?"

The Riddler's smirk turned down slightly.

"'Game'?" he repeated. "I do not play 'games'."

He stepped closer to the clear wall separating them.

"Just who do you believe I am?"

The Scarecrow raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Based on your attire and mind _games_? I'd say you're a Joker wannabe."

It was the wrong thing to say.

With a nearly feral snarl, the Riddler leapt forward, slamming his fist _hard_ against the plexi-glass, eyes blazing like twin emerald super-novas and gleaming white teeth bared.

The Action was so unexpected that Jonathan stepped back slightly in spite of himself.

"You know…" the Riddler hissed through gritted teeth, "you're awfully bold for a straw man. Your attire is awfully flammable to be speaking such…heated words, don't you think?"

For a moment, both men stood in absolute silence, tension crackling almost audibly between them like electricity.

Then the Scarecrow gave the smallest of nods.

"Fine."

The action was stiff and the word burned like acid in his throat, but Jonathan knew that he was in no position for argument. However, that didn't mean he was going to let this 'Riddler' take all of his dignity. "Are you here for a purpose or simply to gloat about your freedom and intellect?"

"Why do you care?" the Riddler retorted sharply. "You're not going anywhere."

The Scarecrow was about to reply just as toothily when the other man seemed to relax somewhat, continuing in a softer tone. "Unless…you cooperate. I help you…and you help _me_. That's the way it works. Am I clear?"

Jonathan was silent for a moment, thinking.

The last thing he wanted was a new 'boss'.

Then again, there really was no other option.

"Tell me what I have to do."


End file.
